


Still Sane

by allofthebirdsdiedin1986



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Detective C. C. Tinsley, F/M, M/M, Ricky isn't the only badass, Tinsley can also kick butt, also family problems, crime but make it sexy, everyone has issues because duh, mafia, mafia ricky goldsworth, musician ricky goldsworth, this is absolutely not a healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthebirdsdiedin1986/pseuds/allofthebirdsdiedin1986
Summary: What Ricky Goldsworth wants more than anything is freedom. So why the hell is everyone making it so hard for him? Dreams of being a famed musician are overshadowed by the super shady activities of his family, but Ricky isn't completely the victim to the family business. He plays a role in the game, one that has unlimited potential and a terrifying cost. No one's motivations are clear, least of all his own. With a recent death in the family and one shot to break free of his familial ties, the stage is set, the characters are undecided, and Ricky steadies himself for what he doesn't even know is coming. The music begins.
Relationships: Ricky Goldsworth & C.C. Tinsley, Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Still Sane

The notes rose in a never-ending crescendo, building higher with each moment. The soft, eerie tune had become a devastating cry that sent shivers down the spine of the rare passerby. The song rose to its peak, releasing one long note, the ringing of a church bell. The sound rippled through the room before fading into the shadows. The man continued playing only after it had faded entirely, lowering to a soft, slow tune before finally setting down his violin.   
His dark eyes glistened in the dim light and he hastily blinked away the tears forming in their corners. He stood from his stool, his legs stiff from hours of uninterrupted practice, and carefully nestled his instrument into its case.  
It was only when he got home that he realized how devastated he looked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten a legitimate meal. His sweater had grown baggy and threatened to slip off his narrow shoulders.   
He couldn’t bring himself to care. In two days’ time, none of it would matter. He would be playing in the greatest music hall in the world, leaving his past to the wind as he stepped into fame.   
His head jerked as his door slammed open, revealing his seething mother. She flew to her son, clutching his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises.  
“Lucia.” He said, a resignation rather than a greeting. His mother paused at the cold unfamiliarity of his voice before continuing on with her worry,  
“Where the hell have you been? The press wanted to know why you weren’t at the funeral and I didn’t have an answer. Can you imagine how that feels? Not even knowing where your own child is?” She pulled him close to her, probably hoping for him to show some empathy. Instead, he just breathed in her rose perfume. “I was worried sick.”   
“I know.” He stood there for what seemed like forever, allowing his mother to fuss over him until she was satisfied.   
Ricky let out a sigh of relief as she left the room, closing the door gently behind her. He was sick of her, sick of the house. It would all be worth it though. Soon. So soon.   
Two days passed like the flap of a hummingbird’s wing, quick but filled to the brim with anxiety. The curtains swayed on either side of him, removing him from the technicians working only a few yards away. Inhale, hold, exhale. He tried and failed to steady his breathing, settling back into the near hyperventilation of a few moments earlier.   
White light hit his eyes as he walked onto the stage. Hundreds of people stood at his arrival, cheering. Cheering for him. Only him. The roar faded from his ears as he took his place in the center. He held his breath for a second, allowing the buzzing in his head to fade with the noise of the crowd. When his mind was cleared, he raised his violin to his chin in one swift motion and began to play. Instinct took over in a split second. The music began sweet, almost nostalgic. It lilted and twirled through the air like a ballerina. Then, as his fingers began to move faster, the music shifted.   
Somehow still sweet, the music had turned into something more sorrowful, longing for something that wasn’t there. It filled the void of silence with a dangerous fervor, growing and twisting like an encroaching vine. It consumed the theatre, hardly leaving a beat of silence.  
A moment’s silence. He could feel the attention of the crowd on every facet of his figure. Ricky took a breath and let his bow fly across the strings. His music rose in a frenzy, crashing down in waves upon the audience. His breath grew heavy with the unceasing crescendo.   
Then his bow stilled on the strings. The last note reverberating through the hollow air.   
There is a rush to preforming that is unlike anything else in the world. It’s pure exhilaration, watching the crowd rise for you after a beat of vacant silence, feeling the heat of the lights on your face. Then the roar of the crowd drowning out the pounding in your chest.   
He lowered his instrument.   
He had done it. He would escape, lead the life that he wished to lead. Not his mother, not his advisors. Him. His face broke into a grin of glorious freedom as he raised a hand to the crowd. Satisfaction coursed through his veins as, one by one, the people rose from their seats.   
However, his smile broke as he spotted one man as the house lights rose. The only person in the crowd who was still seated, his eyes locked onto Ricky.   
Ricky’s brows furrowed for a split second before he coming back to the scene in front of him. This was it. This was what he had been dreaming of since he was eleven years old.   
He basked in it for a moment more before sweeping into a bow, then stepping off into the velvety, red, curtains. His breathing slowed as he made his way back to his dressing room.   
He stopped a few yards short from his room, seeing a man leaning casually against the door. Looking mightly uninterested upon seeing Ricky, the man that he had spotted earlier hardly spared him a second glance. Ricky put on his most theatrical character, sliding into an amused smirk.  
“Not impressed with the show?” The man ignored him,  
“C.C Tinsley, can’t say I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” People were rarely so outright in their dislike of him that Ricky was actually impressed with his courage. He opened his mouth to make a smart retort as the man blurted,  
“Why weren’t you at the funeral?” Ricky’s heart sank at those six words. He had been foolish to think that his performance would be enough to take the public’s mind away from his family.   
“I won’t be taking any questions today.”   
The man flicked his eyes up to meet his own before slowly raising his wallet up. An FBI badge stood stark against the black leather, making Ricky raise his brows. He quickly recovered, pulling his facade back into place as he said,  
“You look a little young to work for the Bureau.” The man neatly tucked away his badge,  
“You don’t get to say that.”   
Ricky looked the detective, Tinsley, over. He did look young for that line of work. He wore a neatly tailored suit and a slightly less tailored expression. His mouth was set into a firm line as if he hated even being within ten feet of Ricky. He looked as if he could use some fun, Ricky decided.  
He pouted,   
“I haven’t done anything wrong, sir. Is it a crime to be so depressed at your own father’s death that you can’t leave the house?”   
Tinsley raised his eyebrows. Thank god he showed some sign of human emotion. Ricky was starting to think that he was a robot.   
“Not particularly, Mr. Goldsworth, however, your family is under investigation for mafia-related activity, so you going missing for a week doesn’t sit well.” He took a couple of steps towards Ricky,  
“I would be quite pleased to know what your role is in that activity. We have everyone else placed, but you are quite the enigma. You don’t seem to be the dirty work kind-of guy.” He paused to look Ricky over, “No offense or anything. You also don’t seem to care about business deals or politics. Nor do you seem like you would accept being a pawn in a game you aren’t allowed to play. So I am quite eager to know what your role is in this family of yours.” Ricky smiled sadly at him,  
“I don’t do anything.” His voice softened, “They hate me. They think I’m a liability.” Tinsley threw him a questioning glance but didn’t say anything. Ricky knew better than to continue. He would let the detective believe what he said. Anything else Ricky added to the story could just come back to bite him later. Tinsley was opening his mouth to press Ricky further when his phone rang out, the sound echoing through the hall. They stared at each other in surprise for a second before Tinsley sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He moved to the far side of the hall to talk, speaking in hushed but furious whispers. Ricky, though he tried, couldn’t hear any of what he said.   
Ricky, tired from his performance, slipped into his dressing room while the detective was on the phone. It was nearly five minutes later when a fist pounded on the door. Ricky had already set his case down, stripped himself of his tie and jacket, and fixed his hair by the time he opened the door to Tinsley.   
The detective leaned against the doorframe,  
“I wasn’t finished with you.”   
Ricky rolled his eyes,  
“I don’t know anything. I get excluded from any important meetings, I don’t have any power in the business, and I don’t know about any illegal happenings. Satisfied?”   
Tinsley stepped through the doorway. He was uncomfortably close to Ricky now. The detective towered over him, giving Ricky the impression that he was a little too comfortable with being in control. Ricky straightened his back and tilted his head as the man glared at him.   
“You know what I think?” He didn’t let the man answer. “I think that you are too focused on your work. You don’t look like you’re having very much fun. He tugged at the detective’s tie and smiled cockily up at him. Tinsley’s lips quirked for a split second before he seemed to remember his mission and he straightened, pulling his tie away.   
“ I think you know more than you’re letting on. I think that you probably know all about the criminal activity in your family. I think you’re more than just a pawn and that you’re too smart to let yourself get isolated from the important work. I just wonder why you still defend them even though it’s so clear that you don’t want anything to do with them.” Ricky practically snarled as he backed the man against a wall,  
“Oh, you are so going to regret saying that.” His eyes sparked with anger and an itch to fight. The man just smiled lazily at him,  
“No. I don’t think I will.”   
Ricky let his fist fly through the air, colliding with the other man’s cheekbone. His scarred knuckles throbbed as he pulled back. Tinsley’s long face broke into a smile as he brought his fists up.   
A second later they were a mess of uncalculated punches as they tumbled through the dressing room, knocking vases and chairs over as they did.   
When they broke away from each other Ricky’s breath was ragged as it left his lungs. A split second passed, then the detective stepped forwards, swinging his clenched fist. In a split second, Ricky had caught his arm, twisted it nearly to dislocation, and pushed Tinsley up against the wall. His breathing was heavy as he tried to fight back, but Ricky’s fists pinned his own to the wall.   
“I told you you’d regret that” he whispered in Tinsley’s ear as the man stopped struggling.   
“Look who’s showing their true colors already.” Tinsley’s lips quirked once more as he brought his knee up and Ricky staggered back in pain.   
Air ruffled Ricky’s matted hair as the door swung shut. He groped at the table in an effort to stand, but by the time he looked out into the hallway, the detective was nowhere to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I don't have much planned in this fic so we'll see where it goes! have high hopes for it and just wanted to get this chapter out for all of you.


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